Joanna Godden eBook

“The worst of it is, we’ll have to sit
for an hour in the dog-cart after we get to Jury’s
Gap. You’ll catch your death of cold, Joanna.”

“Not I! I often say I’m like our
Romney sheep—­I can stand all winds and
waters. But you’re not used to it like I
am—­you should ought to have brought your
overcoat.”

“How was I to know it would turn out like this?”

“I told you it would rain.”

“But not till after we’d started.”

Joanna said nothing. She accepted Martin’s
rather unreasonable displeasure without protest, for
she felt guilty about other things. Was he right,
after all, when he said that she was putting Ansdore
between them?... She did not feel that she was,
any more than she was putting Ansdore between herself
and Ellen. But she hated him to have the thought.
Should she give in and tell him he could call on Mr.
Pratt on their way home?... No, there was plenty
of time to make up her mind about that. To-day
was only Tuesday, and any day up till Saturday would
do for putting in notice of banns ... she must think
things over before committing herself ... it wasn’t
only the shearers—­there was the hay....

Thus they came, walking apart in their own thoughts,
to Jury’s Gap. In a few moments the horse
was put to, and they were lurching in the ruts of
the road to Broomhill. The air was full of the
sound of hissing rain, as it fell on the shingle and
in the sea and on the great brackish pools of the
old flood. Round the pools were thick beds of
reeds, shivering and moaning, while along the dykes
the willows tossed their branches and the thorn-trees
rattled.

“It’ll freshen up the grass,” said
Joanna, trying to cheer Martin.

“I was a fool not to bring my overcoat,”
he grumbled.

Then suddenly her heart went out to him more than
ever, because he was fractious and fretting about
himself. She took one hand off the reins and
pressed his as it lay warm between her arm and her
side.

“Reckon you’re my own silly child,”
she said in a low voice.

“I’m sorry, Jo,” he replied humbly,
“I know I’m being a beast and worrying
you. But I’m worried about you too—­you’re
as wet as I am.”

“No, I’m not. I’ve got my coat.
I’m not at all worried about myself—­nor
about you, neither.” She could not conceive
of a man taking cold through a wetting.

She had planned for him to come back to supper with
her at Ansdore, but with that fussiness which seemed
so strange and pathetic, he insisted on going straight
back to North Farthing to change his clothes.

“You get into a hot bath with some mustard,”
he said to her, meaning what he would do himself.

“Ha! ha!” laughed Joanna, at such an idea.

Sec.19

She did not see Martin for the next two days.
He had promised to go up to London for the first night
of a friend’s play, and was staying till Friday
morning. She missed him very much—­he
used to come to Ansdore every day, sometimes more
than once, and they always had at least one meal together.
She brooded about him too, for she could not rid herself
of the thought that she had failed him in her refusal
to be married before the shearing. He was disappointed—­he
could not understand....